


Some Things Were Meant for Stealing

by orphan_account



Category: Octopath Traveler (Video Game)
Genre: Adventure, Angst, Budding Love, Canon-Typical Violence, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fluff, Loss of Limbs, Love Confessions, M/M, Self-Hatred, that comes later though
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-07
Updated: 2019-01-18
Packaged: 2019-10-03 20:45:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17291105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Therion was pretty much used to being able to get whatever he needed; hell, whatever hewantedon a good day. He was a thief, after all. But the heart of a certain apothecary--the one treasure that has Therion's complete attention--seems to be the one thing he cannot have.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Y'all, forgive me. I wrote in Middle English to best of my abilities. Which... well, it's not the best.

Cyrus looked at the man in front of him with what could only be described as  _pity_.

"Cyrus," Therion began, "keep looking at me like that and I will  _remove_ your eyes from your  _sockets_." Therion stared into the fire that they were all surrounding, taking note that Ophilia was out cold with her jacket as a pillow.

The professor was unfazed by the threats thrown his way. "You're radiating a palpable sadness, my friend, and I suspect that I know the reason for your anguish."

"Anyone with a brain could see  _why_ I'm sad," Therion confessed, "but that in no way means I want to be looked at like some mutt with a missing leg."

H'aanit could be heard muttering to herself that 'no dog is a  _mutt_ ', but Alfyn walked over to them before much else could be said. "I found the sleepweed, so now we should have enough to make elixirs for each of us as we move forward." Alfyn locked eyes with Therion for a second before his eyes darkened and he turned away. "Why didn't we stay at an inn again?"

"Because making our way to the nearest city at this time at night would have proven to be nothing but a fruitless endeavor," Cyrus explained. He decided to forgo the part about Therion and Alfyn's inability to be in the same room for more than an hour.

"I'll be on watch first," Therion called softly. He got up to stretch soon after, tugging his scarf higher up to cover more of his face. He pretended he didn't feel a certain someone's gaze burning into his back as he walked down to the beach.

 Cyrus huffed as he shifted to lay down. "You cannot be on watch and away from us at the same time, Therion!"

"You'll be fine,  _Professor_!" Therion lilted.

They were supposed to be collecting a merchant in Rippletide; not that Therion cared much for even  _more_ people to make alliances with, but he supposed it would too great a hassle to break ties and just continue on his own. Footsteps approached behind him, heavy and a little clumsy as they made their way over to Therion. He waited for Alfyn to be just short of a foot away before opening his mouth to speak.

"Y--"

"Who on  _Earth_ made you so  _miserable_?"

Therion was taken aback by the words spat in his direction. "You wanna try that question again?"

"No one with a decent heart _steals_ from people!"

"Keep your fuckin' voice down," the thief glowered. At least Alfyn had the decency to blush and look down. "I didn't realize we were gonna take on the Gods' _incarnate_ when we asked you to join the team. Primrose is one step away from selling her body, why don't you go give  _her_ shit?"

"Every person you steal from is a choice _you_ make. Primrose couldn't say the same."

Therion scoffed. "Gods, here I thought I'd only have one father in this life." He looked over to Alfyn with an angry fire in his eyes. "Looks like they gave me a second one to put up with."

"You're a  _criminal_ , and I don't understand how no one here has an issue with that."

"Because, believe it or not, most people don't around healing people for free. Least of all because they 'didn't have the  _heart_ to do charge someone in need'."

"That's--"

"Look, I'm sorry not all of us can be high and mighty like you and Ophilia over there, but I did what I had to do to  _survive_ , and I'm not about to let you make me feel bad for it." Alfyn seemed to have run out of words. "Now, if you're done playing judge, jury, and executioner, I have allies to watch over. You included, sad as that is. Go fuckin' sleep." The apothecary shook his head before heading over to the fire that had been set up hours ago. 

Therion moved closer to their little set up, staring at the moon for a brief moment. "Why... why have you forsaken me once again? Is it because I don't pray every night?"

"Therion," Primrose called, "shut up."

He gave an affirmative hum as he pulled out his dagger to inspect it. There was still the blood of a monster he couldn't remember the name of, sitting where the hilt met the blade.  _I need to take better care of my stuff if I don't want to keep buying new things._ Therion's eye's drifted over to Alfyn, who was sound asleep with eyebrows drawn together ever-so-slightly.

_Why? Why you? Why someone who clearly hates me?_

He had clearly let himself get lost in his thoughts, because it seemed not a moment later, H'aanit was tapping his shoulder.

"Thou should resten, friend."

Therion nodded as he moved to occupy the spot the hunter had just slept in. It was a shame that he was no longer on watch duty, because it seemed his racing thoughts were more than intent on keeping him awake.

o.O.o

Therion pretended that he roused when the rest of his companions did, keeping his eyes from locking with Alfyn's as he stretched his muscles to rid of the tiredness. "We should get going; that merchant girl won't be around town for long."

"What makes you say that?" Cyrus inquired.

"She's a merchant, Cyrus," Alfyn explained, "it's kind of her job."

Therion's brows shot up to his hairline. It seemed Alfyn was...  _defending_ _him_? No, he was just stating fact. Nothing more.

The six of them made their way to town, keeping closer to the shore of the beach as they walked. Rustling came from the trees to their right. Therion's eyes immediately flicked over to the sound, stopping in his tracks.

"Therion?" Ophilia started softly. "What's the matter?"

"Monsters," he whispered. He pulled out his sword, pointing it at the source of the noise. Not a moment later, a large goat emerged from the trees. Two more followed behind the first, quickly pushing the team back towards the ocean.

"Cyrus?"

"Worry not," the professor assured, muttering a quick spell. Eyes flashing, Cyrus looked to Therion and Ophilia. "Attack them with your sword, Therion; you, Ophilia, will use your light."

Therion smirked as he unsheathed his weapon. "And here I thought my day would be boring."

"We will helpen you both however we can." H'aanit assured.

"Ready, princess?" Therion teased.

"I still don't understand why you call me that," Ophilia huffed, lifting her stave and casting a beam of light at the goats. It stunned the trio long enough for Therion to go in and slash them all across their chests. The creatures let out pained screeches as they readied themselves to attack the group. Cyrus called down two bolts of lightning.

"If these were any other goats," Therion grumbled as he readied his sword once more, "they'd be fucking  _dead_." Lost in his sour thoughts, Therion didn't notice a third goat coming up behind him. A similar noise to before rang out from behind him, and the thief spared a glace behind him.

"You," Alfyn panted out, "need to be more careful." His axe was the only thing keeping the goat from trampling the both of them with its hooves.

"Right." An arrow was lodged into the goat in front of him, so Therion took the opportunity to help Alfyn out. Swinging his sword and cutting the goat from just below its heart to its gut, Therion brought the beast to its end. The rest of their teammates--if you could even call them that--had similar success, and Therion looked up just in time to see Primrose drive her dagger into the heart of the last goat. He looked to his right, taking in Alfyn's ruffled appearance. "You gonna give me shit for bringing harm to an animal, too?"

It was completely unnecessary; there was no reason to make such a snarky comment, especially when Alfyn was the biggest reason he was still in one piece. But the apothecary seemed content to bounce his sass right back at him. "I could leave you to get impaled on a goat horn next time, if you'd like."

The thief huffed. Alfyn looked pretty good with a teasing smirk tugging at his lips.


	2. Chapter 2

Alfyn took a deep breath through his nose as they crossed the town border. "Ah, _people_. I've missed not worrying about monsters breathing down my neck at every turn." He smiled as he saw children running around trying to catch each other. Everyone else went off to do their own thing for an hour or so, at least before they all set off to talk to the hopeful addition to their party.

"It isn't Therion's life mission to upset you, you know."

Alfyn looked up from his satchel as his eyebrows inched closer to his hairline in confusion. "Huh?"

Primrose shook her head with a sigh. "You act like he's some sort of hell spawn. It isn't fair to him."

"He's capable of making his own decisions, Prim. He doesn't need my approval."

"It's beyond him looking for your approval; you give him a hard time every chance you get."

Alfyn shook his head as he righted his bag on his shoulder. "I'm really sorry if that bothers you, but what he does is wrong."

"Or does he just not match what you want to see in him?"

He didn't want to hear any more of it. It wasn't like he enjoyed giving Therion a difficult time. Bringing someone down, let alone with words, was simply absent from his nature. But there was just something about Therion and the fact that he stole from anyone and anywhere that set something off in him. Something  _upset_ and confused, almost. He still wasn't able to place it.

Was he really being too harsh?

His eyes landed on Therion, who was having a look at the stall in front of him. His eyes met Alfyn's and something twisted arose in his eyes. Before Alfyn could even take a step in his direction, he was fleeing with clenched fists.

"Fix this, Alfyn, before he sours faster than an apple in the sun."

o.O.o

Tressa was... interesting. She had a shimmer about her, and almost all of the conversations held with her led back to her dreams of a becoming a merchant at one point or another. Therion made a note to not approach her unless he had all of his energy. He plucked a coin purse out of a man's pocket as he walked by, smirking to himself when he felt how heavy it was. A wave of guilt quickly washed over his heart, images of Alfyn's disappointed eyes boring deep into him. The thoughts were quickly banished.

_He's not about to make me feel guilty for something I've been doing my whole life..._

He didn't know what it was like to let down someone you cared so much about until recently. Didn't care that what he did was seen as wrong and frowned upon. But that  _look_ in Alfyn's eyes stirred up something hurt in Therion that had been dormant until Darius had betrayed him.

"I can't believe I fell for fucking  _Alfyn_. God, I need a drink."

"Therion!"

"Speaking of..." he muttered upon the sound of Alfyn's voice. "What do you need?" he spat.

"I... need to talk to you. Set some things straight," he spoke softly, eyes just as, if not more, gentle.

 _Yup, this is where he decides he can't stick around me. Just like Darius._  "What _is it_ , Alfyn?"

"I'm sorry. I haven't been fair to you."

Needless to say, that wasn't was Therion had been anticipating. "You're what now."

"It ain't my place to judge you, Therion. I'm starting to see that. But what I see when you steal something is the sadness it brings to someone else."

"I'm not going around stealing prized family heirlooms."

"But how do you know that that one purifying wasn't the first ingredient to a kid's first potion."

"Sounds like you're putting yourself into this situation, medicine man. Did some poor fool rob you of your kid? Set back your career as an apothecary?"

Alfyn chuckled lightly with a small shake of his head. "No no, Clearbrook was a lovely place completely devoid of thievery. I was just looking for an example to use." His eyes lost their mirth as his gaze dragged back down to Therion's feet. "But hypothetical crimes aside, you didn't deserve my cold shoulder."

"Believe me when I tell you that I like cold shoulders when the alternative is a lie."

Alfyn had only put together pieces of Therion's past from the vague comments that the thief dropped from time to time. This added to the list. "Therion." Therion flicked his head so that the hair in front of his good eye would move. His eyes were almost as much of a mystery as the man himself, but Alfyn was finally taking them in completely; a dull blue on most days, with specks of brown when in the right light, but there was something about the moonlight that turned the dreary colours into shimmering combination that took the air right out of Alfyn's lungs. "You deserve a heck of a lot better than what I've been givin' you."

"You don't have an obligation to be nice to me."

The apothecary nodded stiffly. "You're right, but I would really like us to be friends--"

"Why? You're not wrong, Alfyn, I'm just a thief, and thieves aren't exactly the most common friend to have."

"Right again," Alfyn hummed. "Nothing' about this little party we got goin' on is normal though. I, uh..." His hand came up to scratch the back of his neck as a small flush settled on the apples of his cheeks. "I realized that on the way here. I realized I ran out of Noxroot, and the last guy in town with them wasn't willing to sell it to me for less than two thousand."

"I'm not some sort of mercenary, Alfyn, I don't go stealing things for people."

"I'd never ask ya to!" Alfyn assured. Therion noted that the more flustered he got, the heavier the remains of his accent became. "Need a salve for a wound? Call an apothecary. Need somethin' stolen? Summon a thief." When Therion gave him a blank stare, Alfyn knew that nothing else could be said to him tonight. "Let's go," he called softly, "and when this is all over, I'll buy the first round."

"Don't even think about it."

Alfyn had almost sagged dejectedly when the words were spoken. "Huh?" he sulked, but then Therion was appearing beside him and giving him a small smile.

"The first round's on me." He continued to walk past Alfyn, back to Rippletide. "Now let's get you that Noxroot."

"Wait--"

"You said you didn't wanna leave Rippletide without it, and the less monsters that are fully capable to attack me with their gross teeth,  _the better_."

Alfyn smiled softly as he jogged to catch up with Therion. "Doesn't that hair get annoyin'? I imagine it messes real bad with your depth perception--"

"Alfyn?'

"That's the name!"

"Stop."

o.O.o

Therion let Alfyn chat his ear off on the way back into town, because despite how much he hates chatterboxes, there was something about the shimmer in those amber eyes that cut the protest bubbling in Therion's throat short.

"That's him," Alfyn suddenly whispered. "That's the guy who wouldn't sell me the Noxroot."

"Sounds a little petty to steal it from him."

"You weren't there. I almost had it right in my hands but he marches in with a pocket full of leaves and suddenly my business was unwanted."

"No wonder you have no issues about this; we're robbing a cunt."

Alfyn snorted. "In other words, yes."

"Not even two minutes of no longer hating my guts and I've already corrupted you. Any longer and you'll be robbing a palace."

"Oh shut it."

Therion stopped Alfyn before they could get close enough to catch the man's attention. "You wanna to make my job easier for me?"

"I don't see why not."

"Good. Chat him up, you're good at that." Alfyn smiled proudly. "And whatever you do,  _don't_ look at me. You know why?" Alfyn shook his head. "Because you can't look at things that  _aren't there_." To Alfyn's credit, he understood the meaning instantly.

"Oh my gods I  _do_ need to spend less time with you."

"Used to it." Alfyn's sparkly instantly fell as he looked to Alfyn with regret. "I'm kidding," he amended, walking past Alfyn. "Mostly."

Alfyn smacked a hand to his forehead before realizing that Therion had once again left him in the dust. The thief placed himself behind a crate nearby, nodding at Alfyn as he walked past. "Sir!" the apothecary called. 

"I already told ye, I'm not telling me Noxroot."

"Of course, of course, but I was hoping I could take a look at your other products? Surely there must be other things in that sack of yours other than the Noxroot."

The man wasn't impressed. "Nope, so ye can run along now."

"Aw, come on!" Alfyn pressed, ignoring the flash of purple in his vision. "You wouldn't sell it to a paying customer?"

"Ye couldn't buy the plants back from me in the shop. I don't think ye can pay me now."

With a small, fake sigh, Alfyn crossed his arms as his eyes slid shut. "I guess you're right. Have a good night." 

Alfyn spun on his heel before the man could say anything else, weaving in between houses to avoid the risk of being followed.

"Hey." The apothecary nearly jumped out of his skin as he held back a scream. "I took all his Noxroot. And some Purifying Dust."

Alfyn couldn't even get mad at that. "By the gods, I could kiss you."

Therion bit his lip and looked away from the man in front of him. Alfyn didn't seem to pick up on the small shift in Therion's attitude. "We should get back. They're probably wondering where we are." The thief nodded. "How about we finally stay at an inn, hm? Get a good night's sleep? I'll pay for our stay."

"You can barely pay for the food that goes in your stomach, medicine man. I'll pay for a room. I'll take the floor."

 

"You're sure?"

Therion didn't want to let it slip just how much he was temped to give for the blonde. "Yeah, sure. Whatever."


	3. Chapter 3

Therion wanted to puke. Cry. Scream.  _Something_. The last time he saw the face in front of him, he was falling to his doom.

This wasn't supposed to be anything big. He was supposed to get back the emerald dragon stone, get it back to Heathcote and Cordelia, and fucking  _get on_ with his life. There wasn't supposed to be anymore Darius, or betrayal, or  _feelings_ , but that last one was to be blamed on a certain green-clad apothecary.

His legs felt like they were about to fall out from under him as he stared at Darius; the man who had broken something that Therion had yet to be able to fix. "Is that you... Darius!?"

Darius was so  _smug_ about the whole thing, acting like he hadn't thrown Therion off a damn  _cliff_ \--he probably couldn't care less about that, but that didn't mean Therion didn't get to seethe. And that laugh; that blasted  _laugh_ that still haunted Therion on night where sleep avoided him like a lethal disease. Those eyes were picking him apart piece by piece and Therion felt himself wanting to run away more and more. All the years spent doing what he could to undo the damage Darius inflicted, only to make a full circle and wanting to crumble completely.

He only just became aware of the three people behind him when Darius had run off to... do what Darius does when he wasn't weaseling his way out of his own mess.

Cyrus, H'aanit, and Alfyn helped Therion make quick work of the bandits left behind by Darius and his lackey. 

"Do you ever get tired of using people, Darius?" he murmured with tears threatening to spill from his eyes. "Just like you used me..."

His comrades ignored his comment--a smart move, no doubt, when Therion was in such a fragile state--as the thief moved deeper into the cave to track down the two men he was after.

"Darius," he boomed. The aforementioned man's eyes landed on him, annoyance clouding his gaze. 

"You just refuse to die, don't you?" It would have been the perfect time for one of Therion's snippy responses--something along the lines of  _'what can I say, it's a skill_ _'_ \--but his tongue felt too heavy and his throat too tight.

"Tell me: why are  _you_ after the dragonstones?" he squeezed out.

"Why does a tea leaf steal  _anything_ , Therion? I don't need a reason to want what I do." And it was something about that sentence, whether it was the words themselves or how they were said, that made Therion's chest feel off-- _drop_ , almost.

 _I'm just like him. I'm not any better than_ Darius _._

 

Defeating Gareth was a blur. Therion had no qualms about leaving the man unconscious, and, surprisingly, neither did Alfyn.

It was a silent walk back to the town their came from, where the other members of their party were chatting over a half-eaten dinner. Though it was more like Primrose watching while the other three talked unabashedly with their mouths full; a mannerism that she refused to partake in, for she  _was_ still raised a noble.

"What are we eating today, my friends?" Cyrus cheered, happily trotting over to the table in the corner of the tavern with H'aanit close behind. Therion slouched over to the bar, ready to drink so much mead that he thought his foot was his ass. Alfyn joined him, quieter than Therion had ever heard him.

Alfyn ordered a pint of mead--Therion's favourite, actually, the one with the anise and apple--and a pint of ale for himself. "How'd you know?"

"Olberic mentioned how for a thief, your taste in alcohol was that of a fine maiden."

"I'll kill him in his sleep, just watch me," Therion threatened, glaring knives over to the table of their companions. Wait a second--"Hey, I said the first round would be on me."

Alfyn, the  _ass_ , simply grinned and held up his glass as a salute. "Well, ain't that a shame?"

 

An hour of useless babbling and drinks later, Alfyn was too tipsy to walk himself to the inn. Therion just barely managed to successfully gesture to Cyrus that he and Alfyn would be leaving early before he was accidentally forced out the door by a man too many inches taller than he was. Stumbling over to the inn, Therion asked for one room to drop off his drunk friend in. He happily took the key and shoved the apothecary up the small flight of stairs.

Once Alfyn was on the bed, Therion sighed softly to himself. The blonde took it upon himself to lie down and cuddle into the soft mattress. 

"I wanted to hurt him."

Therion's eyes snapped to the still form on the bed. "I beg your pardon?"

"I wanted to hurt Darius. For ever hurting you like that."

"You don't even know what he did," Therion whispered. He sat down in the arm chair in the corner of the room.

"I don' need to. I can see it in your eyes. He did somethin' awful. And I wan'ed to hurt him for it. Still do." He turned over to face the thief. "Does that make me a bad apothecary? I'm s'pposed to heal people, not wish 'em hurt."

"Go to sleep, Alf."

"Hm," Alfyn hummed, eyes closing. "I like that. Call me that more often."

"Got it."

Alfyn's eyes slipped open ever-so-slightly. "Therion?" He continued when he heard a hum to do so. "Stay?"

"Alfyn--"

"Please?"

Therion let out a choked sigh, grabbing the throw pillow and blanket from the chair. "Why can't I say no to you?"

"Hm... 'cause you love me?"

 _Oh, you have no idea_. "Sleep, Alf."


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Middle English can suck my fuckin' ass.

"Why don't you hate me anymore?"

Alfyn's eyes flitted over to the thief across from him. "I never  _hated_ you..."

"Could'a fooled me."

The apothecary sighed guiltily as he stared down at his food. "I... I don't know. I guess I didn't understand why you'd do somethin' like steal from people that don't deserve it. How you wouldn't feel guilty." When Therion bristled, Alfyn had apologies falling from his lips like a small waterfall. "And I regret that so much now. A friend told me that I wasn't treatin' you fairly, and I wasn't."

"I dunno, Alfyn," he scoffed, "thieves don't deserve a whole lot of sympathy."

A brow was arched in Therion's direction. "You've never  _wanted_ my sympathy."

 _Fuck_. "I--yeah."

"I know it seems weird," Alfyn continued, "that I went from treatin' you badly to wanting to be your friend. And it's a little bit of a cruel turn-around. I know that, and I'm sorry for it." His face lit up as he smiled at Therion so brightly the thief thought he was staring into the sun. "But I hope to be someone you come to trust."

"I don't do 'trust'. Not anymore."

"Wouldn't you trust any one of us to have your back in battle?"

"Hardly."

Alfyn decided not to continue with that line of questioning. "Well, anyway, I'm ready for you to trust when you're ready."

"And how the hell do you know I'll be ready to do that, huh?"

"Because I've seen what a thief _can_ be. And he wasn't like you. You have a good heart, Therion, and it ain't broke. Just a little bent."

Therion silently stood up from his seat as he pulled out a few leaves to pay for their breakfast. "We should go help H'aanit track down her dad."

Alfyn's brows drew together. "I don't think Z'aanta is her father?"

"Biology doesn't make a dad."

Therion couldn't see it because he'd turned around, but there was the fondest smile sitting on Alfyn's lips as he softly spoke: "You really are somethin' special, huh, Therion?"

 

H'aanit is heartbroken when she finds out her Master is turned to stone. She has a rage about her that Therion had never seen in the whole time he'd known her. He tried to console her, but she seemed to be taking no such things from him. 

Therion couldn't blame her for that.

They mulled around the forest for a little while, making sure they were no other chests to be found. "Nothing is better than finding plums in a chest," Cyrus hummed.

"Why is it that we take random food from random chests in random places?" Therion sighed out.

"Say that to me the next time we find a dagger for you," Alfyn teased as he sent a wink Therion's way. The latter promptly ignored the heat in his cheeks.

He shook his head to clear his thoughts, but what he heard when he payed attention was alarming. "It's quiet."

Cyrus nodded. "And thank the heavens for that."

"No," Therion insisted, "it's way too quiet. No ambient noises. No leaves moving." He looked out into the trees, straining his eyes to see  _anything_ , when a streak of black crossed his line of sight. The next thing Therion could register was Cyrus' pained scream.

The professor was on the ground, gash across his back and bleeding profusely. Alfyn was running over to him as soon as the shock had subsided enough to let his legs move. " _CYRUS_!" The blonde's knees hit the hard dirt with an alarming thud, but he seemed to have cared less. "Shit, okay okay, um, I'm--Fuck I don't know what to do--"

"Alf, breathe." Alfyn looked over to him, and Therion thought he understood every thought that was going through the other's head. "You know what you're doing. This is what you do. You got this." He briefly made note of H'aanit driving her axe down into the monster--a dark roller if he saw correctly--before focusing completely on Alfyn.

Five seconds and one deep breath later, Alfyn's eyes went back to looking over the wound. It was a grim sight. "Okay. You're right." He shifted a little to hover more over Cyrus. "It's too big for me to give him an elixir and hope for the best. It's too deep for me to just carry him back to down and do something safely." Alfyn's eyes widened, and Therion would think it almost comical if it weren't for the crappy situation on their hands.

"Hear me out," Therion started tentatively, "but what if you... sewed him shut?"

" _What_!?" Cyrus screeched. Oh. He was awake, then.

"That... might work."

"I don't want you anywhere near my freshly cut wound with a needle and thread!" he protested. "I won't allow it!"

"It's that or you die, professor. I'd pick the lesser of two evils. The pain would knock you out anyway."

"You would make a shit apothecary," Alfyn laughed, giving Therion a look so fond that it really had no place being given in that moment.

"Fix up the professor, will you? I like having him and his magic around."

"You could always just say you would miss my presence should I pass, Therion," Cyrus ground out.

"Hush, the two of you." Alfyn turned to Therion. "I need threads from your scarf. You willin' to sacrifice that for Cyrus?"

"Not like I have a choice."

"H'aanit!" The hunter turned towards Alfyn. "Could you whittle a twig down as small as you can get it without it breakin' in my hands, with a groove for a thread?" H'aanit nodded as she picked up a branch off the ground. Therion tossed a dagger her way for her to carve the wood. "Cyrus, I'm really sorry buddy, but this is goin' to hurt like a bitch."

"Now I'm accounting for the pain to knock me unconscious," Cyrus bemoaned.

Therion let out a strained breath as he looked at the wound. "Is there nothing to make him numb?" He took off his scarf, ripping it apart just enough to grab two threads.

"I haven't been able to make somethin' for that yet," Alfyn admitted, voice laden with guilt, "but looks like I'm gonna have to learn now, huh?"

"And you'll only be better for it." Both men turned to Cyrus. "The fact that I'm currently bleeding faster than you can fix me is not your fault--"

"That was a bad way of putting it," Therion muttered.

"--and I have full faith that you'll be able to fix me right up."

Alfyn sighed just as H'aanit walked over, makeshift needle in hand. "Bless your heart, H'aanit." He looked to Cyrus one more time. "You're gonna want somethin' to bite down on, professor."

 

Cyrus was completely unconscious, but still alive and much too heavy in Alfyn's arms.

"Passen him this way," H'aanit offered. "Linde can carryen him."

Alfyn looked immensely relieved when the offer was made. He carefully laid Cyrus on the back of the gentle snow leopard. He marched back over to Therion, who regarded him with impressed stare. "Shocked you didn't collapse as soon as you picked up him."

"I swing an axe, Therion, I'm no weakling."

Therion couldn't help but look to the apothecary's arms, and--yeah, okay, so what if he actually had a decent amount of muscle to him? "I'm gonna bet money that you'll accidentally hurt someone if you gain anymore muscle."

"True strength lies in those who know to control it."

"Oh my gods, yes  _Cyrus_ ," Therion laughed. Saying the name made him look over to their sleeping friend. "You did a really good job out there, you know."

"I wouldn't have thought of it if you weren't with me."

"That's not true."

Alfyn raised an eyebrow at him. "Not before he bled out, that's for sure."

The thief hummed. "Maybe."

The three of them walked in silence back to Stillsnow. It was nice, watching the snow twinkle like small candles as it fell to the ground. Therion would regret not wearing boots that were more weather proof later, but he didn't care much about it in that moment. As a reflex, Therion went to go tug his scarf higher up his face, flinching when he remember he didn't have it anymore. Dammit, now he would have to buy a new one. Now, though, it was time to sleep this all off.

 

Therion was wandering around the general store a few days later, looking for something he could at least use  _as_ a scarf.

"Therion!"

He turned to the familiar voice, tilting his head to the side inquisitively as Alfyn stopped in front of him. "Hi."

"Hey," the blonde panted. "I, uh... I wanted to give you this." Alfyn's hand came out from behind his back, dark purple scarf folded in it. "I felt really bad that I asked you to damage your scarf for me, and I know how much you like having it on you--"

"You  _made this_?" Therion breathed. It was a stunning scarf, the rich grape colour intertwined with intricate green designs on the ends of them. "It's stunning."

"Egads, no! You'd never guess it, but Olberic has quite the way with fabric."

"Maybe he should have fixed Cyrus up," he joked. "How is he, by the way?"

"He's holding up better than I ever could have imagined. I could have sworn he was going to get an infection."

"On _your_ hands? Never."

Alfyn's cheeks turned a bashful rose as he looked down at his feet. "You really think way too highly of me, Therion."

"I wouldn't waste my breath on telling you if I didn't know it."

And that  _smile_ was just blinding. Therion wanted to look away, lest he say certain things that he knows he shouldn't say, though there was no denying that Alfyn's happiness was infectious.

"You have such a beautiful smile."

Therion jolted at the compliment. "Huh?"

"Well I've never seen it before, since that old scarf always covered it up."

A smirked danced on his lips as he fought down an even bigger smile. "You assuming that I smiled before?"

"Well," Alfyn lilted, "then if you didn't, I'll be more than glad to give you your first smile."

It wasn't true; this wasn't his first smile and Alfyn wasn't the first one to make him. But Alfyn was the only one that made him want to smile more. Therion's eyes drifted down to the scarf in Alfyn's hands, gently plucking it from his grasp and wrapping his around his neck.

"It's to warm..." he happily murmured.

"I'm glad." And there it was again. The smile that rivaled the sun. It warmed Therion's heart just as easily, too.

"The green," Therion began, "what's that for?"

"Whatever you want it to be." The blonde was gone as soon as the words left his lips, leaving Therion holding the ends of his scarf in his hands.

Therion went back to looking at the wall of clothes, sighing as he made his way to the door. Olberic walked in with Primrose and almost collided with him. "Therion! How are you?"

"Good," he said. "Thanks for the scarf, by the way. You made it well."

"Pardon me?" Olberic's eyes went to the scarf. "Oh. I did not make that, dear friend. Alfyn stayed up late into the night for the past two days making it."

 _What_?

"He... Alfyn made this?"

Looked like Alfyn was better at sewing clothing than he was wounds.


	5. Chapter 5

Therion played with his new scarf, thinking of all the reasons why Alfyn would have hided his ownership of the article of clothing. The thought of it made Therion's cheeks warm, no doubt, but it was still a mystery he was intent on solving.

Or tricking Cyrus into solving it for him.

"Hey, professor."

Cyrus looked up from his tone with curious eyes. "You are aware that I'm technically no longer a professor, correct?"

"I'm selective when it comes to caring about details."

He hummed as he regarded Therion with a more calculating gaze. "I see. What do you need of me?"

"Ideally a little lit of help to figure something out."

There was a spark in Cyrus' eyes, and Therion knew he had him hook, line, and sinker. "I do love a good mystery."

"Well, you see, I was gifted something by a friend. Something handmade."

"I see," the professor muttered, lost in thought.

"And they told me that a third party made it, when it was actually them."

"A lie. Intriguing."

"The gift was a little personal. Something he--they knew I could use."

Cyrus' lips turned from a frown of concentration to a smirk that a shark about to close in on its prey would wear. "Oh? Did he now?"

Therion coughed a little before continuing. "Y-Yes,  _they did_. I just want to know what you think that means."

"It means Alfyn returns your affections."

He cursed his own misstep. 

 

It would be a while until they left for Quarryquest, on the hunt for Cyrus' lost tome, so Therion took to time to sit under by the fire in the tavern. Having his feelings mirrored was not something Therion had ever thought to be possible, but now that it was something so close to his grasp... he wasn't sure he wanted it. He allowed himself to feel that way for Alfyn, and it seemed it was time to put that to an end before it came back to bite him in the ass.

No one needed a broken soul, after all.

Though with those thoughts came the endless possibilities of what _could_ be; _Therion quietly opening the front door to their shared home back in Clearbrook, Alfyn hunched over his desk as he adds just a dash more of the ingredient he's been missing for the past three days._

_"Hey, darlin'."_

_Therion would chuckle to himself. "How's the project coming?" While setting his satchel on the ground, the ring on his left hand gleamed. The sight would fill Therion with an indescribable warmth._

_His husband--by the gods, his_  husband _\--hums. "You should have a silencin' potion by the end of the weak." The blonde turned in his chair just enough to lock eyes with Therion._

_"Hm, what did I do to deserve you?"_

_"You exist," Alfyn easily replied, "for there was no power in the world strong enough to keep me from you."_

Therion wanted to laugh at himself; what a ludicrous fantasy to have, something so joyful. He was a thief. Homes weren't meant for him; he traveled, he stole, he survived, end of story. As much as Alfyn made him want to plant as many roots as possible, Therion refused. He didn't deserve it. Not a home, not love, and least of all, Alfyn's heart.

 

If there was any hope of finally figuring out what the fuck Alfyn was trying to do with that scarf of his, it was quickly squashed by Miguel's unwanted presence. Sick and twisted is the only way Therion could begin to describe the situation; the second he saw that man lying on the ground, every possible alarm bell was going off in Therion's head. But Alfyn--sweet, gentle, ever-loving Alfyn--was so intent on helping the injured soul that he couldn't see the glint in Miguel's eyes upon his agreement to help.

Therion should have fucking  _said something_.

When Alfyn fixes Miguel up, he has such a glow about him that Therion couldn't begin to put a word to it if he tried. Not self-satisfied, for Alfyn never saw his patients as anything other than people who happened to get his assistance. No, it was... joy? That was the only way to describe it; Therion knew that the blonde could spend the rest of his days doing nothing but sitting down and healing people and need, and be satisfied. It was one of the things that made him so easy to love, after all.

But then Alfyn got news that Miguel had kidnapped a child, and there was an infuriated regret that fell over his face.

"We will assist you in rescuing the child, Alfyn," Cyrus assured, "and we will bring that scoundrel to justice."

The words weren't meant for him; Therion  _knew this_ , and yet they sunk so deep into his gut that hurt bubbled up in his throat until it threatened to make Therion cry. _Gods_ , when had he let his emotions run so fucking  _high_? He  _was_ a scoundrel, and there was no doubt that they would bring Therion to his end just as quickly as they would Miguel. It was simply a matter of time, he supposed.

"The kid's probably bleeding out on the forest floor," Therion sighed out. "We should get going."

Alfyn looked to him with wide and concerned eyes. "You really think he'd hurt him?"

"I think thieves have more potential to be heartless monsters than you realize."

Cyrus and Alfyn shared a look, but Therion ignored it in favour of walking past the two of them.

"We should ask Primrose to join us," the thief suggested. "We're gonna need anyone who's light on their feet."

 

Alfyn is the only one to advance on Miguel; it was too much of a risk to show all of their cards at once, let alone to someone who seemed to unstable. Try as they might, none of them were able to calm down Alfyn enough before he approached the thief.

"MIGUEL!" he roared.

The sight of the bloodied spear enraged Alfyn beyond words. He would rethink his actions later.

"The brat wouldn't shut up," Miguel sing-songed, "so I stuck 'im one to give 'im something to  _really_ cry about!"

"You low-down pile of  _filth_..."

Therion moved silently until Miguel's back was to him; Primrose on Alfyn's right and Cyrus on the left. Their blonde friend didn't seem to notice their movements, and whether or not it was due to their stealth or the fact that he was preoccupied beyond belief, no one would know.

"The boy could  _die_!" Alfyn cried. He sounded too desperate, and Therion knew Miguel would turn that against him. He climbed up the tree while making no noise, perching himself carefully as he continued to look over the scene.

A blade glinted in the moonlight, and--oh,  _no_. The axe in Alfyn's grasp was a hand-me-down gift from H'aanit. It was new, and Alfyn had yet to actually practice with it, let alone use it in battle. Therion prayed to every god in the sky that such a thing would not be the blonde's downfall.

"This is my fault for helpin' you." Alfyn's voice was trembling with anger, muscles shifting in the visible part of his forearm as he readied his weapon. "But that's why I'm goin' to set it right, by my own hand." Therion readied a dagger. "Step  _aside_ , Miguel!"

Therion chose that moment to launch himself from the trees. Thankfully, Miguel wasn't fast enough to throw Therion off before he could stab a knife down into this shoulder.

"ARGH!" Therion was thrown off of the other thief. He gave a hard glare to the man in front of him when he felt his ass hit the ground too hard. Primrose was quick to swoop in, holding a knife to Miguel's throat.

Alfyn walked behind him, a small sigh coming from his nose. "Give it up, Miguel, there's no point in keeping it up." He kicked at Miguel's legs and he got a sick sort of satisfaction when he groaned in pain.

"I'm kind of tempted to put him right back where you found him," Therion confessed. Alfyn gave him a huff of a laugh for the comment. "After all, we can always do our best to turn back the clock, no?" Primrose joined Cyrus in carrying the kid out of the clearing. Miguel tried to stand back up, but Alfyn was quick to draw his axe once more against the back of his beck.

"Ye really think yer that much better than me, tea leaf?"

Therion wanted to scoff a little. "I beg your pardon?"

"Alfyn!" Cyrus' voice rang out. "Come quick! Something is terribly wrong with the boy!"

Alfyn didn't want to leave Therion by himself with Miguel, but when both Cyrus and Primrose called out a second time Alfyn knew there was no more ignoring their cries. "Can you hold him off? Just long enough for me to send Cyrus your way?"

"Go, Alf; we came here to save the kid, you shouldn't neglect him."

With a nod, Alfyn was sprinting off to save the son son of a random woman they knew for no more than two minutes. This was his life, apparently. Efficient as always, Therion was quick to flip Miguel over and pin his arms behind him with the latter's polearm not too far away.

"Can't believe yer in love with an  _apothecary_ ," Miguel cackled. Therion's eyes flashed with anger as he drew a dagger from his sleeve, revealing the bangle on his wrist. "And yer a shit thief!"

"Turn your neck anymore and it's gonna snap." Therion leaned down next to Miguel's ear. "Not that that would be a bad thing, though, right?"

"Ye and I aren't that different, boy. I just know how to keep myself alive."

Therion sneered. "Considering you're the one with a knife to your neck, I'd say you lost that skill in recent days."

"Ye don't get it, do you?" Miguel laughed for a moment before looking at Therion like he was nothing more than a speck of blood on the side of the road. "The minute ye let yerself work with that party of misfits, ye let yerself go. Yer not a thief anymore." Therion was trying his best to not let the words eat at him, but they were true, and it was only a matter of time before he just let them fully be fact. So lost in his own head, he wasn't able to stop Miguel from grabbing the lance just an arm's reach away. Miguel bucked his hips hard enough to knock Therion off of him and aimed his weapon right at Therion's head. "And without that? Yer nothin', kid." It was a little sad, how reluctant Therion was to move from the weapon's path. Maybe he'd serve a better purpose maimed and out of everyone else's lives than around them like a peer.

Before anything could happen, there was a gargled shout of pain from the thief in front of him. Therion flinched as warm liquid his his face. Copper. It smelled like copper. Heart racing, mind going faster than the rest of him can keep up--axe, screams--Alfyn?

His head cleared after a moment, and he saw that Miguel was missing an arm. Eyes drifting up, he saw an axe that Alfyn had driven down into the joint of Miguel's shoulder. "Therion, buddy, come on, look at me." Therion listened easily. "There ya are. Are you okay?"

"I--you--"

Alfyn plucked him up from Miguel's bleeding form--which was  _much_ too easy of a task, Alfyn had no right being so toned--and set him down gently on the ground nearby. "You're shaken up, Therion; how about I carry you back to the inn, huh?"

 

"I--yeah. Yeah, okay." No use putting up a fight; he was fucking  _tired_.

 

He was expecting to just be able to fall asleep on a relatively comfortable bed as soon as he walked through the inn doors, but Alfyn seemed more than intent on putting a stop to his plans. "Therion, you can't go to sleep yet."

"And why ever the fuck not?"

"I need to check you for wounds." He cut Therion off before the thief could walk past him. "It's kind of what I'm here for, you know."

"Yeah, well." _Great argument, Therion. A true scholar-tier response._

"Please? On the bed? I don't like the thought of leaving someone untreated."

Therion would love to say he was strong against the puppy dog eyes Alfyn gave him, but, well, that'd be a downright lie, and Therion was seemingly incapable of creating those when it came to the exuberant blonde. "Just make it quick, medicine man."

Alfyn gave one of his signature grins as he reached for his bag. "I promise to make this one of the best medical treatment experiences you've ever had."

"Believe me, the last and only one I had was unpleasant beyond belief."

Well  _that_ had been way too much information. He'd clearly piqued Alfyn's curiosity, and once that happened, there truly was no going back. "Oh? What happened?"

"Nothing," Therion quickly sniped. There was no way he going to delve into the fiasco that was his past when he was just berated by some low-life in the  _forest_.

"Aw, come on, Therion! You can't just tempt me with the mishaps of other apothecaries and not divulge!"

Oh boy, his blood was boiling--yet also freezing over; it was confusing--and he felt his hands shaking. "Fine, you wanna know so bad?" He turned around from under Alfyn's hands--which were  _so warm_ ; Therion wanted them rubbing down his back when the nights were too cold or when memories of the past came to eat at him one more time--and glowered at the blonde. He hated that he needed to look up to do so. "The last time I was given medical care by another person was because I was shoved off a fucking  _cliff_ by the one person in my life I had grown to trust. Every bone in my body was broken, except maybe my skull, and I'm sure one or two of my organs  _still_ lack certain functions. That was the only time I wasn't able to make up a solution for my own injuries. I couldn't just steal a cheap salve from a stand in the market for a burn, or create a makeshift splint for my fractured wrist." There were tears in his eyes for sure, but the sickening cracks of his bones were filling his ears and the agonizing pain was creeping back in slowly. "I was  _helpless_ , lying on a bed because Darius thought the only way to rid of me was to end my life." Therion quickly rose from the bed. "Maybe he was onto something."

"You don't get to say that."

"Ex _cuse me_?" Therion hissed. Alfyn's head was hung low, eyes out of sight as Therion looked on at him.

" _You don't get to say that_." Alfyn's eyes snapped up to meet his, and fire lit up those amber orbs that Therion had memorized like the back of his hand; could easily map them out like a heist he'd been planning for months. "You don't get to travel with us all over the damn continent, make us all  _fond of you_ , and then say that you should just die because it'd be easier."

Somehow the weight of your words being thrown right back at you was so much worse than saying them. "I--"

"No, Therion,  _listen_." Biting his tongue, the thief stayed silent as Alfyn continued. "There are no words to describe how badly I want to put that man's head on a pike right now;  _none_. But my priority right now is makin' sure  _you're_ okay. I'm not askin' you to feel better overnight or to forget that betrayal come the new moon." Therion huffed quietly as he stared down his boots. He should clean them when Alfyn fell asleep. "Just that you... I need you to realize how much you mean to the seven of us. To  _me_."

Therion felt his lungs quickly and sharply fill with air at those words.  _To me_. "Alfyn..."

"I'm not done." Alfyn made a few quick strides to gently lay his hands on Therion's cheeks. The latter flinched purely out of reflex, but let himself relax because it felt so welcoming, being held by him. "I... I love you, Therion. I'm in love with you."

"You don't know me well enough for that."

He almost expected Alfyn to blow up at him; he was being a pretty hard person to work with, considering this is what he'd wanted for months now. But, all he got was a fond chuckle. "I know that you love those crimson apples so much more than any other kind. I know you love it when Ophilia carves them like bunnies for you. I know you keep your stealing from children to a minimum because you want them to go places. I know you sharpen Tressa's spear heads when she's out doing her merchant business." Therion looked away from the apothecary's eyes, because they were just too beautiful, and raw, and  _entranced_ that he couldn't stare any longer. Alfyn quickly turned his face back to him. "I know that you actually enjoy listening to Cyrus go off on his tangents because you love to learn." He let his right hand drop, resting just over Therion's heart. "I know that the heart beating inside of your chest has been through so much, and yet still manages to be made of the finest gold in the whole continent. I don't need to know what's behind that piece of hair to love you, or know just what you've done as a thief; who you've stolen from or who you've hurt. You're a kind person, Therion, despite what you seem to think."

And that--all of it, really--was what sent Therion into a fit of hysteric sobs that were so powerful they made l his chest ached. That, added to the overwhelming emotions coursing through the entirety of Therion's body, and he could only come to one conclusion; Alfyn truly loved him. He heard the blonde's voice in the distance reassuring him, and for the first time in so long, Therion felt things were going to be okay.

 

It was a blessed fucking miracle that no one walked into the inn room at the sound of Therion's crying. An hour later, Therion found himself cuddled up against a very well-toned chest with equally muscled arms wrapped around him.

"I feel the same, you know."

"Hm?"

"You said some... beautiful things. Before. When I was having the mental breakdown of the century." Alfyn huffed out a laugh. "And while I'm not sure I can... put it into words just yet, I-I feel the same. As you do. So. Yeah."

Arms wrapped tighter around him with a fond hum. "That's all I needed to hear."

"And you can... look under the hair."

Therion practically  _felt_ Alfyn's eyes pop wide open. "But--"

"I'm serious. If you want to, you can."

Alfyn lifted one of his arms gingerly, barely making any contact with the back of his hand to Therion's cheek. This wasn't something Therion had  _ever_ planned on doing, but this entire night was an unforeseen event and he figured he should just go with the theme. When he heard a gasp, he knew the scar was fully in sight. "I--Can you  _see_ with it?"

The thief shrugged. "Eh. Mostly. Shadows and lights, very vague colours. It's easier to just leave it covered."

"Thank you."

"I--you're welcome. I think?"

Alfyn laughed softly as he moved his arm back to where it had been wrapped around Therion. "I know that I'm not the first one you put your trust in, and I know that I haven't always made you feel treasured like you deserve." Therion was tempted to cut him off, but something told him he should let the man say what he had to say. "But I promise you, I'll make sure you know how worth it you are to me."

And if that wasn't fucking music to Therion's ears.


End file.
